Marcus speaks as you travel, weary and resigned, but not exactly bitter:
"So you're looking for Galina Merowyn?
I couldn't tell you where she is now, but I can tell you where she's been. Seems to me if you want to understand a person, your best bet is to follow in their footsteps, and we left plenty in our time. You'd asked Blackbird about my story, he would've gone on about youthful promise crippled and all that rot, and about me being such a fool to keep doing things I'm not fit to do anymore. I don't call that foolish, I call that being alive. But good luck trying to explain that to him. Blackbird never listened to anyone but Blackbird.
So, the war? For me, it started with rumors. That and delayed reciprocal interest. Which might sound a helluva thing to go marching to war over, but you sit yourself down in a counting room for a few hours and I promise you'll feel apt to start a war yourself. I was the oldest son, was supposed to take over the family concern, but I didn't have the heart for it. Terrible arguments with my father, disowned me when I left, shouting about how folk overseas got along just fine without me and one more sword wasn't going to make a difference to them one way or another...But it was never going to be good enough for me, sitting still where I was. I knew if I didn't leave the world a better place than I'd found it then I'd leave it full of regrets, and I couldn't see how I'd be helping much of anyone sitting atop a pile of other folks' money. You're young enough you probably still understand, that knowledge of all that's wrong in the world and how it won't possibly get itself fixed without your help, burning you up on the inside? All these problems we inherit from our elders, who else is going to solve them, right? So when noise started to reach us of what was really going on behind the scenes in Solata's civil war, about Hell itself reaching out to drag a mortal kingdom down to its level?
Well, that was enough for me. Found the good fight, had to rush into action before it got itself all fought out. Didn't know I was already too late for it, that by the time the rest of the world knew who was pulling the rebels' strings they'd mostly lost. Oh, there were still some skirmishes, some backwoods towns to set free, bands of free mercs sucking the land dry like big fat ticks, but it was just a lot of shouting compared to what came before. You can imagine how that burned, right? I got there in time for a year or two of cleanup work, not much more. Work that needed doing, sure, but you didn't get that sense of glory from it. You don't feel so much like you're making a difference putting down some upstart bandit king as you would storming the walls of an occupied city, smiting Hell's usurping agents right there in the streets.
So when I was sitting 'round a tavern in Amaranth, drinking myself through the notion of going back home and allowing my old man was right in the first place, and I heard some paladin was making a ruckus over chasing the villains back to their holes, dragging them out to face the light, well, you know I had to sign up.
Crown wasn't happy about all this noise--Regent wanted Solata's army right where it was, see? He had borders to keep secure and he wasn't about to watch his men running off to other worlds to chase shadows, shadows that were somebody else's problem now anyway. Formally forbade his regular soldiers from signing up for this new crusade, though quiet like so's not to build Galina up even more--she'd just find herself barred from Solati army stations, royal guard waiting at the gates to turn her away, that sort of thing. She didn't take that well. Answered to the church and her god first, sure, but she'd always tried to work within existing command structures, give proper respect where it was due. At least until the authorities stopped being as righteous in her estimation as they should've been.
So in the end it was a band of oddballs like myself answered her call, that and a few close friends of hers from the war. I'd met Galina once or twice, maneuvers out in the forest running down mercs Baator'd left behind when they pulled up stakes. Didn't know her to speak to her on personal terms, exactly. Wasn't someone I ever felt I could approach on a personal level, not someone you'd go out drinking with when business was done, you know? There was a sort of distance between her and most everyone else--not that she acted all high and mighty or thought herself better than other folk, just she was so serious, so responsible for other people she just didn't have time to be everybody's best chum. Nah, she left her mark when you saw her in battle. Howling with all Heaven's fury, laying waste to whole mobs and coming out of it unbowed, it would sort of fill you with this fathomless courage. You'd feel like you could batter down Hell's gates as long as someone like her was leading the charge. Never hesitated, never showed any doubts about herself. Tough to be her friend, but easy to follow her anywhere.
Anyway, Galina'd got her hands on some enemy intel near the end of the war. A few of the big-name collaborators slipped off to greener pastures when their cause went south, Galina had some leads on where they'd scarpered, got some scrying done to confirm it when she could. Said they were our responsibility and it wasn't right to call the war won just because our enemies were off making atrocities against foreigners now instead of us. Made sense to me at the time. Still does--maybe we didn't handle things as clean as we could have at all times but, well, every moment's clearer to see when you're no longer in it, isn't it?
So, there were five of them we were looking for:
You lot sound like you're from Amaranth, most of you anyway. Probably you already know the name Connor Creel? Infernals' chief general? Man'd look at an orphanage and see a recruiting station? You can bet none of us was happy about him ducking the axe, and taking him down was one of our chief goals. Otherwise...
Can't say I'm in a position to know what their standing's like nowadays, but Cuthbert's priests were a big force in the war, and Simon Beneventia was their main man in the war effort. Hear he had a way of talking that'd have you nodding along in seconds. You probably know the sort, such iron certainty in the rightness of every word that it just seems to reach in and move you along with him? Word got around in time his subordinates were more fanatic in their devotion to Simon in person than they were to their patron god, which started to make some folk wonder if maybe he wasn't so righteous as he'd have everyone think. Someone figured out over time he was picking his missions to target demons, and he'd only pass to the crown whatever it was to Baator's benefit to let them hear. Simon disappeared as soon as the game was up.
Licia Senacott was an arms merchant, ran the Dragon's Breath Forge up in Bridgeton. Might not sound like much, but it'd been a family production for generations, and by the time the war started the Forge was a small city turning out thousands of weapons a year. Had contracts with the crown dating back decades and no one was more key to supplying the royal army. When the war broke out, she must've seen an opportunity: provide weapons to every faction, keep the war raging and profit threefold. Enough's never enough for some people, you know? Well, sooner or later the devils found out she was triple-dealing, "persuaded" her it was in her best interest they be her one and only customer. Suddenly she's turning her hometown over to the infernals and the crown can only struggle to put swords in their soldiers' hands. That was a bad year.
The Cranes were an old noble family, and their oldest daughter Victoria was the jewel of capital society. Charming, sophisticated, never without a clever remark. Turned out to be as pleasant beneath that pretty veneer as caltrops scattered about a flowerbed. Had a talent for scouting out human weakness. Take on the guise of everyone's friend and confidante, and once they'd unburdened their shameful secrets on her she'd call up her patrons in the Abyss. Tell them just what to prey on, what they needed to push people into working with them, corrupt them, blackmail them if need be, always a safe way to start. After the Queen was murdered, the Regent couldn't ignore there was an informer in the city. Didn't have much on her, she was too slippery for that, but he made a safe bet based on who was doing least to help the war effort. Some poor soul she'd wrapped around her finger told her what was up, though, and when royal troops raided Sandhill she was nowhere to be found. Word got out later she even took demons into her bed. Don't like to think about that.
Last was a wizard called himself 'Tetrarchus.' He was a problem before the war. Had some mad ideas about creating a superior race of beings, thought if he took the best of every race he could breed something tougher, smarter, meaner than anything else in the planes, maybe even the gods. Took to snatching folk he thought to have some trait would serve his new blend, had them mate through magical compulsion, even turned himself into a lich so he'd live long enough to see his grand experiment through. Provided magical services to both sides in the war in trade for however many prisoners they could give him, and let me tell you, it was easy to make someone disappear in those days. When things fell apart for the fiends, him and his whole castle just blinked off to another world, with however many hundreds of crossbreeds he'd produced. We could not have been more eager to bring this man to ruin.
We set out looking for Senacott first. Wasn't too hard to find her, she'd left a trail we could follow without much trouble. Didn't have the experience covering her tracks the rest of our targets did, nor the same friends in low places to keep her hid. People she'd paid to help her escape and left behind in Solata, not paid enough not to talk about it, though.
Seemed she'd hightailed it for the plane of Earth. There's this used-up mine near Bridgeton has a portal at the bottom of it, only opens up if you've got an emerald handy. Was a bit of refugee traffic through that gate during the troubles, actually. Some folk actually set down roots on the other side, nextdoor to this old dwarven mining outpost. Looked like they had the makings of a real city on their hands when we passed through, could be a sight by now if they never went home. Not the worst world to live in, all things told, long as you don't mind all your light coming from magery. Was some noise about dao moving in, though, and that's never good news for anybody. Anyway, wasn't hard to find a few witnesses saw Licia passing through for a portal on the other side of this great gorge the refugees were settled 'round.
We followed, found her on Pandemonium, settlement by the name of Gray Hope. Some priest set up shop there before the war, mission of mercy sort of venture. Ease the torment of the mad blighters drawn to the place, establish one last safe harbor for the few decent folk that have business there, that type of thing. Walked into this little chapel burrowed into the stone, safe from the winds, and there she was in acolyte's robes stirring up the evening's stew. Didn't look worried when an armed gang came calling on her, not surprised or afraid. Just offered us dinner.
Seems she'd had herself a draught of the Styx before settling in there. Priest said she'd turned up one day not remembering anything at all about herself, he'd given her a room and put her to work. Now, there wasn't ever any way of knowing whether she'd drunk it on purpose or if she'd had a stroke of ill luck and the winds of Pandemonium had tossed her into the river, but if you ask me, it's always seemed a little too neat she happened to lose herself right outside the one safe haven in that whole godsforsaken wreck of a world.
Had a kid with her, too. Not hers, I think--didn't look much like Licia, though something in the girl wasn't human, had this red hair'd flow about and flicker like liquid flame. No one had any idea where she came from. Hell of a place to raise a kid, either way. Anyway, we questioned Licia at length, cast what spells we had to tell us when she was lying and never heard a peep out of them. Had to conclude she was telling the truth: she didn't remember a thing about who she was or what she'd done or the war itself, had spent the whole year since she disappeared right there. Washing floors, cooking meals, mending clothes. Not asking anything for it.
There was an argument about what to do with her. Phibous--he was our sorcerer, intense little firebrand of an elf, real keen on bringing vengeance to anyone what had truck with the outsiders during the war--he wanted to kill her right there, said forgetting she was a traitor didn't change the facts of what she'd done. Raymun--he was a forester traveled with this great monster of a wolf and ran a lot of ambushes during the war--he was from Bridgeton himself, so real quick to agree.
The Alcembrons--Brijid, this half-elf troubador, and her human brother William--they said we should bring her back to Solata, let the crown decide what to do with her. Two of them were alike as day and night, but always one mind about how to carry out our mission. You ask me, it didn't make much sense to bring someone back to the authorities when we were all out there because of what the crown wouldn't bother doing itself, but then, William I think always saw us more as police than avenging angels.
So I stood there and I listened to them argue, but none of this felt right to me, you know? Didn't see the good in tearing someone away when they're trying to make amends. Hated the idea of punishing a person for a thing she'd no knowledge of doing, wondered how a man could convince himself right and wrong meant a thing when he's pushing to murder someone working charity. Decided I didn't like Phibous much. But I didn't say anything because I was the young pup and with all these weathered veterans, well, how could my word stand up to theirs, right? Didn't speak up until Jill threw in her lot and said everything I was thinking. Jill Cook, well, she was a sweet lady, had this aura about her like a little piece of heaven glowing inside, you know? You could always talk to her, always tried to include everyone.
So there were two of us in each court and it came to Galina to break the stalemate. Agreed with me and Jill, said justice didn't mean anything if there wasn't a chance for redemption, and whether Licia went there looking for that or found it by accident, the righteous thing to do was leave her be.
Just what we did, too. Not so much because it was a vote, you understand, but because Galina'd made a decision, and I got the sense that would stand no matter how things broke down. One of those people, you know, has an air about her sweeps everyone along in her wake? Folks might have disagreed, but past maybe Jill, no one was ever about to go against her, and before anyone could voice second thoughts we were setting out again. Licia packing us a meal for the road, smiling and waving goodbye. I guess it's easier to feel satisfied living in the plane of madness when you've got no memory of anything better.
So we walked out of there, deeper into Pandemonium. 'round Howler's Crag there's ruins of some ancient city, we found a place to stay called The Last Laugh. Didn't find it much of a laugh myself, but it's the safest place you'll see past Gray Hope. Few days beyond that, just before Cocytus gives way to Phlegethon, there's a portal to the plane of Air. Had ourselves some scrying done before we left Solata and it'd turned out this was where Victoria fled after the crown figured out her true loyalties.
Decent place, the plane of Air, at least after Pandemonium. But what wouldn't be, right? Feel more free just stepping through that gate, sky opens up around you and you just have to will it to fly where you like. Anyway, Victoria'd set up shop not far from this town by the name of Azure. Damnedest place, all these houses of blue crystal floating 'round a portal to the Abyss. Nobody knows who built the things or what happened to them, though you could make plenty of guesses just based on where they chose to build their city. Place was overseen by a fellow called himself the High Magistrate. Knew what kind of risks the town faced just being where it was, ran a tighter ship than any in His Majesty's navy. Maybe moreso than he needed to, wasn't a man in that town'd dare step out of place, and...well, that wasn't what we were there for.
We asked around a bit and folks pointed us towards the Blue Horizon Sanitarium. 'Rest home for the magically unstable.' Huh. Seemed she'd set herself up as caretaker for the plane's dangerously deranged, anyone who tumbled mad out of Pandemonium or who Azure just needed out of sight. Ugliest building I ever saw, like a giant wasp's nest floating free. Or a tumor. Wasn't any prettier on the inside. All these lunatics Victoria'd conned folks into placing in her care? She'd wormed her way into their heads, turned their madness into something she could use, so when we came storming through the halls, they saw us as every terror their bent minds could dream up. You couldn't take a step without some poor bastard belching fire in your face, screaming how he wouldn't let the rat men take him, or whatever the voices in his head told him you were.
Did the best we could to subdue them without killing, but there's only so much care you can take to stay your hand when you've got a man howling like a mad dog hurling disintegration spells down the corridor at you and the walls are bleeding all around. Something wrong with the building itself, feeling of eyes everywhere and walls would shift behind you whenever you turned your back. Stopped once Victoria was dead, like the world around us just bent to her will while she lived to direct it. Must have been hours before we could find her, hours trawling through bloody corridors with these barmy sods didn't know any better trying to melt us alive. You figure she could've just left, having all that time to spare and the magics to make it easy, but she just sat waiting for us in her office with a smile on her face, like it was all a game. Or, you know, maybe something there was just too important for her to leave behind.
Made a sweep of the sanitarium before we left, to try and find any of the inmates might be hiding away in dark corners. Couldn't just leave them out there to starve. Jill and Galina found a few hooked up to some machine in the basement. Not sure what that was about, some kind of experiment, something occult. Two of them smashed it all up, weren't keen to talk about it. We rounded up everyone there we could talk into following us, the calm ones, the ones that wouldn't fight for Victoria or the few we'd managed to subdue peaceably. Led them back to Azure, turned them over to the Magistrate's guards. Maybe not the most understanding of hosts, but, well...
Another round of arguments there. Felt like we were washing our hands of it all just leaving the survivors with someone else, Jill said, had to be something more we could do for them. Galina and the Alcembrons talked over her, though. We were out there to bring criminals to justice, she said. You know, not to be callous, but what could we do, found our own asylum? We'd saved who we could, what could anybody expect us to do but leave them with the authorities back in Azure? And if the Magistrate wasn't the most generous of men, and if maybe he wasn't all that happy to see a collection of mad mages delivered to his doorstep, well, what option did we have? Throw him off his throne and set someone nicer in his stead?
Talked all this over a few days, but nobody had any answers better than what we'd done. I mean, she was right, wasn't she? Couldn't solve every problem in town without settling there and becoming part of it ourselves, and we had other plans. Nobody can cure all the world's ills, sometimes you just have to settle for the ones within your grasp. We were still on a mission, three more monsters out there we had to track down and stop from spreading their filth, corrupting more innocent lives. Made sense at the time. What else could we do?
Decided to take a look 'round Arcadia for Simon next. Our thought was, he'd fooled the cudgels once before, who's to say he couldn't do it again? Maybe he still had friends in the church who'd close ranks, trust one of their own over some outsiders clamoring for his head. Took a tour 'round the countryside, nice and quiet after what we'd been through. Strange air about Arcadia, makes you feel your proper place's marching in formation somewhere. Still a pleasant little vacation by the standards of this trip, though.
So we trekked through hill and valley, checking in with whatever temples we found thereabouts and asking, you know, politely as we could, whether they'd got any new members lately and if maybe they'd got someone matching this description it'd be in their best interest to turn that man over. Authority counts a great deal with that lot, so dropping on folks that Galina and Jill were names of note in their own church opened a few doors for us.
Church elders were of two sorts about us, generally: you'd get those so full of pride in their church and their charges they'd take personal offense at just the suggestion they might be harboring a fugitive; and then there's those take to it with a sort of spirit I don't know you could find anywhere else, perfect cooperation out of the logic that if you're innocent, of course the best way to prove it is to give your inquisitor whatever he asks for. Shouldn't be much surprise it was one of the former told us what we needed to hear after leaning on him a bit, and a speech out of Galina about hellfire and damnation that I could swear had the man soiling his robes: place called Tranquil Valley, there was this little church had itself a new preacher. Real firestarter, we were told, just had to listen to him speak half a moment and you'd find yourself nodding along, ready to follow wherever he pointed.
Familiar story, right? Figured it was Simon up to his old tricks, and the priest we were talking to allowed that this fellow did show up just about the time Simon vanished from Solata. So we set out to see if this man was who we thought he was, and wouldn't you know it, someone told him we were coming. Not with so much time to spare he could get away from us, though. He knew what was what and didn't bother trying to talk his way out of the noose, just rallied his new faithful to stand in his defense. Changed his name, changed his face, but still I think a few of them knew who they were hiding. Probably he sold them some story about mistakes realized and a bold new start and who knows, maybe he even meant it? But there wasn't any time for talking once we showed up, he just cut loose with all these hellish magics he'd got from his damnable allies, and seeing their preacher fighting for his life, most of his flock just had to stand up for him. Small mercy is, most of his converts were more or less broken in spirit once their leader was dead and chose to stand down after. Weren't many fighters in the lot anyway, so this one was cleaner than it could've been.
Two more left on our list now, two worst of the lot. Didn't have much on Connor. Knew he left Solata with his taskmasters, but could only guess where. Tried scrying him out, just got a moment's sight of flames and burning and, well, that doesn't necessarily narrow things down so much as you'd expect when it comes to the lower planes. Tetrarchus we couldn't get a hair's glimpse of. Scryers would tell us they just got a big blank, like they were looking for someone didn't exist. Knew we couldn't be that lucky. Started to feel like we'd have to do something desperate to find him.
So we went to Baator. Under flag of truce, guarantees of safe passage we'd negotiated with some middlemen, but safe's always a relative word when you're dealing with devils. Had more of a tour of the place than I would've liked, looking for someone could be bribed to tell us what we needed to know. Saw lots of things I'd rather I hadn't, sights'll stick with you for the rest of your days. The pits where they render souls of the freshly damned for new purposes, melted wrecks of humanity shambling through the streets, all this horror on all sides as we went about from one hellish bureaucrat to another looking for someone had what we needed.
Of course you know what each of them wanted when we came calling to make a deal, the same thing they always want, but there's a few could be persuaded to part with secrets for gold alone, provided you'd enough of it. They weren't too happy with their old allies either, blamed their mortal pawns for losing the war because you know it couldn't have been any devil's fault, so maybe playing on that need for spiteful revenge bought us a little leeway. Or maybe the notion that we'd wind up killing each other, sure that thought warmed more than one devil's black heart. That and a king's ransom. I don't like to think about what evil ends that money's been put to since we parted with it, but we left Baator with our souls and there's few enough can say that. No one was real happy about the necessity of this trip, but we got what we needed out of it: knew where to find Connor, Tetrarchus, got hands on Tetarchus's phylactery, stolen and laid up in an infernal vault back when they were on good terms.
Came calling on Connor next. Caught up with him on the plane of Fire, wretched little cinder of a town called Ashpile. Every bit as nice as it sounds. Portal to the plane of Negative Energy out in the middle of this fiery waste, and there's enough of that cold hell bleeds over to temper the heat so's you don't ignite and burn to ash in a blink. Locals wear no more than it takes to keep themselves decent and still sweat near every minute of the day, but I guess it beats bursting into flame and at least they were free. Were, before Connor showed up.
Place started out a haven for escaped slaves from the City of Brass, in time folks learned how to make a little money off of travelers, what with that portal and all. Turned into something else altogether when Connor moved in. Had enough of his old thugs with him to kill the leading citizens, set himself up as governor. Built barracks, sequestered the local boys. Made them compete for promotions, the meaner they were, the more generous the reward. Same old game, everyone just wheels to turn in his war machine. Maybe he thought this was the first step in building up his army again, maybe he knew he was just playing king of the most pathetic shitheap hill a man ever fought over, I don't know. Didn't matter.
Stopping this, well, it didn't go the way we wanted it to. Maybe if we'd had time, we could've talked more of them around. The ones old enough to remember a different life, the weaker ones who couldn't earn their Captain's favor--some of them stood down when we made our big appearance in the town square, some of them. But not as much as we'd wished, and as long as Connor was around, we weren't going to have the chance for much else. He knew who we were, knew we must have come for him. It was his town and there wasn't any sneaking around and being subtle, wearing people down over time, not when any young man in town'd go running to tell him about it just to crawl a step up the ladder.
So he set his loyal hounds on us, old hands from Solata days first. When we killed them, he hid behind his raw recruits. We spared as many as we could, but they fought with a rage that belied their years. Young men, some of them little more than boys--furious, committed, but in your heart you knew most weren't really guilty of anything more than marching to the only tune they'd heard, had the need to obey beaten into them, not knowing any better than to jump when their Captain barked commands. Phibous, he used to use a lot of fancy words, 'Indoctrinated' was what he called them. Sounded like a disease.
And after all the killing was done, and after we'd tossed Connor's body outside the city limits and watched it burn away so no one could even think of raising that little shit again, you know we had to keep moving because our mission just wasn't over yet. But Jill'd had enough and decided to set her stake in Ashpile. Said with Connor killing the civic leaders and us killing him, there wasn't anyone left suited to run the place. Still people that needed to be fed, children that needed looking after in the harshest of worlds, and if nobody else was about to step up to the job she'd do it herself, wasn't going to keep running for someone new to smite when there were folk right there needed help and guidance. Wasn't the argument from this you might've expected, Galina gave her best wishes and we moved on. There are days now when I think maybe we were just glad to see someone else volunteer.
Was sad to see Jill go. The party was a more driven beast without her around, grimmer, and focused with the end of our self-appointed task in sight. Didn't stop thinking what we were doing was basically right, but there wasn't so much of that crusader's glamor about it anymore. Where we had to go next didn't help any.
There wasn't a worse place I saw in our travels than the plane of Negative Energy. At least the Nine Hells had a sort of life to them--it was sick and twisted and it'd eat you up body and soul if you gave it half a chance, but at least there was a sense of people going about business as usual, horrible as it might be. But this? Just a world full of death, stark nothing as far as the eye could see--which wasn't far given the place made war on light, ate it up so's it wouldn't reach more than a few feet from you. Nothing I ever saw made you feel more tiny, life more a transitory thing.
Longest couple months of my life trekking through that void searching for Tetrarchus's castle. Place would suck the warmth, the life, right out of you, and it'd wear at the nerves knowing the only thing keeping it from destroying us altogether were a handful of charms Phibous had to cast anew every day. Finding the castle itself wasn't much relief. Place was all sleek metal, like some quicksilver sculpture you'd expect to flow away any second, crooked turrets and sloping floors'd tug your eyes different directions if you looked at them wrong. Something in the alloy warded off prying sensors, Phibous said, why none of the scryers could get barest glimpse of the man.
Fought our way in through hordes of servants, the usual arcane trash--animated dead, golems. Nothing that'd cry out when you cut it, which I can tell you was a mercy after Ashpile. Found the man himself and saw justice done. Hellish confrontation--he wasn't about to retreat and leave his work in someone else's hands, so he cut loose with all the black magic an archmage can muster. Raymun and that wolf of his vanished in a rainbow of light, black fog ate off my right arm, mostly ruined the other. By the time Galina'd buried a sword in that rotting head of his, it was a wonder all of us were still alive.
There should've been a sense of finality to it when he crumbled to dust, but there wasn't. Done what we set out to do, but we weren't finished, see. Didn't need Jill there to say 'I told you so,' all of us could see this time there was more to it than cutting off the serpent's head. Remember there wasn't any trace of the results of Tetrarchus's experiments after he disappeared from Solata? He'd brought them all with him when he left. Wing of the castle was enchanted to shield it from planar effects, provisioned with months' worth of food. Set up as a nursery, to raise all his star subjects for the next round of experiments. Had zombies and the like making the rounds to clean and feed them. Can only imagine what that does to a kid.
Best thing to do then would've been to move the castle, as he'd done himself at the end of the war. Problem was, it turned out Tetrarchus's construct servants had standing orders to demolish the machinery let his castle move from plane to plane in the event someone killed him. So we found ourselves with two options: try and escort a small army of children through the plane of death, or leave them someplace that was designed to be safe for them and go find someone who could get the castle moving again. Not much of a choice, really. More dangerous outside the castle than in, so we decided most of us should make a run for civilization, better to ensure at least one person made it someplace we could find help. Galina volunteered to stay behind.
So that's where we left her, last place I saw her: all alone in the void, in a floating castle filled with crossbred orphans. Only choice we had--safe enough inside, but we couldn't move the castle, couldn't possibly escort everyone to safety, not when just stepping outside unprotected would kill a man in seconds. I couldn't tell you what being alone in that circumstance does to someone, so if she's taken to stealing sacred weapons now, well, I couldn't guess what might've brought her to that. Sure she wouldn't do any such thing if she weren't convinced she needed it, had some righteous use for it. One thing I can tell you wouldn't ever change, though: nothing in the world's going to stand between her and doing what she thinks is right.
Best I can suggest is, trawl through our old haunts and maybe you'll pick up a clue I wouldn't think of. Find Brijid and William if you can, or Phibous--the plan was that they'd find a wizard could fix up Tetrarchus's magical machinery, get that castle moving so they could shift it somewhere safe, get all those young ones back home without having to march them through that lethal void. I couldn't tell you exactly who they went to--first thing they did when we found civilization again was leave me behind, set me up with transportation wherever I might want to go. Which I figure sounds cold--you know, sent off to the heroes' rest home, out of sight, out of mind? What else do you do with a warrior can't swing his hammer anymore? They meant it for the best, though, knew I gave up my youth for a war I could've safely watched from across the sea. Understood with gratitude, just weren't so good at showing it. You fight alongside someone long enough and there's plenty you just don't need to say.
We had our disagreements and failures, all of us, but I don't think we chose poorly given who and what we faced. If doing the right thing was easy, everyone'd be doing it."